Lover's Comfort
by scottymakura
Summary: Oneshot: It's the night before the battle at the Throat of the World, and the Dragonborn finally realizes what it's like to have someone to live for.


_Disclaimer: Everything you recognize (Lydia, Dragonborn/Dovahkiin, et al) belongs to Bethesda Studios. Everything you don't recognize from The Elder Scrolls Skyrim, is mine._

_Author's Note: I fixed a few spelling errors that were really getting on my nerves. I'd written this going off of no sleep at about four in the morning. It was something I was desperate to get out of my system. Hope you enjoy it though!_

"You never should have come here!"

Three bandits ready their weapons and charge at us, programmed to do nothing but imbibe and protect their loot. I brandish my sword, inwardly chuckling. This will be too easy. But the melee practice can never hurt. In about a minute, Lydia and I have slaughtered every last bandit, and taken all their gold, and all the healing potion we could find. Realizing that we could do with a place to sleep, I decide to seek out a bedroll or something-wolf pelt, anything. We're going to need the rest. We're making the trek up to the Throat of the World tomorrow, and I have a haunting feeling that this time, Paarthurnax won't be the only dragon on the peak.

First, I make sure to jam the entrance to Redoran's Retreat, just to make damn sure nobody -nothing-gets in while we're sleeping. After all, I am the Dragonborn, and what a tragedy it would be if I were slaughtered in my sleep by a troll. Afterwards, I do find a rickety bed. And only one. It's splattered with blood, but it's the best we have, really. You can't afford to be terribly picky when you're trying to get as much rest as possible before a dragon slaying. I look at Lydia apologetically. "This is all we have."

But before I can pull back the furs on the bed, she's spreading down a wolf pelt we harvested earlier next to the bed. She always does this, and I know why. I wish she would realize that she doesn't have to do this. I don't want her to feel like she must submit everything superior to me while she suffers. I know it's her job, but I wish it didn't have to be like this.

What I really wish is that we could take this relationship (?) past merely housecarl and Thane, but I can't tell her that. In combat, you need to have someone you can fully trust, someone with whom your camaraderie is strong. Being so close to the imminent battle with Alduin, I can't afford to make things awkward for her and I. I take off my clothes-everything except my amulet and loincloths-and settle into bed, watching Lydia nearly the entire time. I tell myself she'll be alright. She's a woman of steel. She's a Nord and she's used to the cold.

But Skyrim's cold is unrelenting tonight, and not even the skin of a Nord can block it out. I really can't stand to watch her shiver any longer. I can't do it. So, I roll over and tap her shoulder, ever so lightly. Her pale skin is ridden with goosebumps. "Come to bed."

"My Thane, I am perfectly fine down here." She struggles to stop the chattering her teeth produce as she speaks. "You can keep the bed."

"That's an order, Lydia. And take your armor off. I want you to rest comfortably."

She looks at me, and in her eyes I see something I haven't seen before from her. I think she realizes that I'm using my rank to help her. Has any other Thane done this for her before? I wonder. I don't know much about her. We don't have the opportunity to talk much. It's mostly conversation about how she wishes me long life and that she's sworn to carry my burdens. She never seems particularly happy about the latter, though. I guess that's why I've offered to carry all my stuff recently. I don't wish to burden her with things I can carry. Away with the unnecessary weapons and potion. I'll have to learn to do without the excess things.

It seems like ages that I've given Lydia so much as a regenerative potion to carry.

It's the first night we've actually slept together. Usually our nights consist of the two of us waiting around for morning, with Lydia sharpening her weapons and me reading Farengar's spell tomes then practicing the learned magicka. I've heard her yawning, but with bandits, thugs and Draugr standing in our way of a good night's rest, this is the first time we've had the opportunity to slow down and fix our fatigue.

Lydia takes off her armor, and slides into bed next to me. I've never seen her in just her loincloths, and the sight is mesmerizing. There's something so...different about the way her brown hair hits her white skin, rather than the steel armor I always see her in. As she slides under the furs, her freezing skin sends chills down my spine. It's a reminder of Skyrim's never-ending cold, compared to the temperate climates of Cyrodiil.

It's only been about five minutes, and I can feel Lydia's shivers returning to normal breathing. The rise and fall of her body is so beautiful. I stare at her for a while. Without her armor on, she seems so much more fragile; she seems breakable, like porcelain.

I wonder if she knows I would never break her. She's done so much for me. She's saved my life on countless occasions. And she's always had my back, always been there for me. Every time I turn around and I don't see her, I think that she's given up on me-that she's finally had enough and laid down her armor-she comes running up the slopes seconds later, or I spot her fighting my would-be murderer to the death. How can any person with a heart not fall in love with someone like that? Most of the women of Skyrim have resorted to mere shopkeeping and childbearing. Lydia's different. She has that true Nord spirit through and through. I just love that.

I'm starting to think that I love her.

As this thought occurs to me, my arm develops a mind of its own and snakes around her small, yet muscular, abdomen.

My mind is abuzz with anxiousness and anger. What have I done? This small act of affection should never have happened! What if Lydia cannot bear to look at me in the morning after this? I'm starting to plot ways to tell the World Eater to just outright devour me when I feel her give in to my pull and her backside meets my pelvis. Her head turns to meet mine, and she smiles at me.

You have to understand, I rarely see Lydia smile. I think she's always trying to look emotionless to me. I'm not sure why; maybe most Thanes, I suppose, don't want their housecarls having any feelings or emotions other than the desire to defend. But I digress. Her teeth are actually nice. Her full lips look even more precious when she smiles. It sends my heart aflutter. I trace the lines of her abdomen. "Can't sleep?"

"My Thane, you're tracing your hands across my stomach. Of course not."

I lean down to her ear and kiss her neck. "Please, call me Jayden."

"My Thane-"

I brush a lock of hair away from her face, and she goes quiet. "Jayden," I whisper again.

As she flashes me another rare smile, I'm starting to think that maybe I do have a chance with her. Or maybe it's just the fact that I'm wearing the Amulet of Mara. I decide to take it off and hang it on the bedpost, just to experiment. She does not move away from my touch. To know that my love for her is truly reciprocated gives me more courage than any ale or potion ever has and will. Gently, I roll her under my body as I straddle her, and then lean in to her face.

It's my first kiss, but that's not the first thing that registers. What registers first is the feeling when her full, rosy lips meet my own. I feel like I've been hit with a shock spell and a healing spell at once. I don't want this kiss to end, but somehow it does, and it gets stronger. Then I'm unthinkingly trailing kisses across her flawless skin and her fingers are lightly running across my back. It feels so natural, so right. I look her in the eyes and she looks me in mine. "I have something to tell you."

The words come out as a whisper. "What is it, my Thane?"

"I won't tell you my secret unless you say my name," I tease. In this moment, we are not Thane and Housecarl. That's not what I want. I want Lydia.

I can see the internal battle that happens within her eyes. She knows she is technically my subordinate, but at the moment it flashes across her face: she, too, wants us to be more. My name slips from her mouth, this time with all the reverence in the world, and then I know for sure.

"I love you, Lydia."

She looks at me for a long time. "As I love you, Jayden."

It makes me want to leap with bliss from this cave. I want to move into Breezehome with her. I want to get married to her, to have her now and forever. But those things will have to wait, as much as I wish they didn't. I will fulfill my destiny as Dragonborn, and when I defeat Alduin, I know I will have endless days to spend with her, without any rogue Dov threatening the Nord motherland.

But I can seize this one moment, so what I do is give myself to her. All of me to all of her. And our intimacy is like our mutual agreement to finally exist together as equals.

When I wake up the next morning, it is this lover's comfort that gives me the courage to fight today at the Throat of the World. I know I have someone to live for, and it's Lydia, beautiful and unwavering in her strength and her heart.


End file.
